How To Survive Spring Break
by Arandomchan
Summary: [AU] [BL] A vacation was all Squall needed. That, and SARS. [And the alcoholic parents have struck again.]


Rating: T for TEEN. I might hike that up once they REALLY start cussing.

Pairings: Hm. Mainly Seifer and Squall, with sly hinting at others.

Author: Arandomchan

Disclaimer: God made me do it.

Lowdown- So Squall's alcoholic parents, in cahoots with Seifer's alcoholic parents, decide that a trip to Florida to visit his alcoholic grandparents is a grand idea, and a perfect time for their son to introduce his boyfriend, Seifer, to the elderly family members. Squall is then set on the path of righteous alcoholism, madness, and his grandparents trying to fit ten years into seven days. As rough as it seems on HIS end, every phone call he gets from home takes a year off his life—just what is going ON over there?

Notes: Oh My Fuck. I know this is long. So very long. And it probably has so many mistakes I should change my name to 'astupidchan' just to accommodate them. Actually, that's a cute name. Anyway, sorry. Tenses are **all** fucked over. I **hope** the story is enjoyable enough to ignore all that crap, though. More stuff at the bottom, not long.

How to Survive Spring Break

_Prologue_

The plane was filled with muted bustle as the passengers boarded and stored away their carry-on bags. A few of them looked confused, a few nervous, and others were already in their seats, either trying to ignore the going ons, or watching them with mild curiosity. Seated on Seifer's left, Squall was trying to ignore everyone and everything (but mostly Seifer). Seifer entertained himself by doing the exact opposite and _watching_ the passengers and stewardesses move around, sometimes striking up short conversations, but mostly commenting about them to his traveling companion.

It was really starting to irk the brunette.

Somehow - _somehow_ - his parents and Seifer's parents had come up with the idea of shipping them _both_ off to Florida for a 'well deserved visit with Gammy'n'Gampy.'

"_Fuck **that**_," he had said (all but blurted out, really), but his parents remained unperturbed and told him it would be _fun_ - besides, Ralph and Alona had been complaining that they'd never get to see their grandson all grown up before they died, and, well, that just _wouldn't do_. So Squall asked why the freaking fuck _Seifer_ had to come as well.

They said, with carefree smiles, that it wouldn't hurt to introduce his _boyfriend_ to them at the same time. He gawked at them as his mind became a nuclear bomb test site, unable to even _grope_ for the words to point out that Seifer _was not his goddamned boyfriend, he never **was**,_ _he never **would be**, so would they **stop saying that al-fucking-ready**!_

His mom commented that his grandparents would be fine with it. His dad said Alona would be thrilled.

Squall screamed in frustration and vowed to take horrible, horrible vengeance upon God. It would be bloody. It would be vicious. It would most likely involve a hammer gun and a nail bat.

Ten minutes later, when he next saw Seifer, he decked the blonde, growling out, "It's all your goddamn fault, _I know it_."

Seifer didn't have a _clue_ as to what he was referring to, only that the punch had packed more force (borne from anger) than usual. Coddling his injured face with a towel wrapped ice pack, he came across his parents and thus uncovered the root of Squall's towering rage. He was going to Florida? For a week? To meet Squall's grandparents?

Well. If _that_ wasn't just plain weird, nothing was.

The trip was set for Spring Break and the week preceding it consisted of Seifer alternately trying to avoid Squall and pester him while Squall thought up plan after plan to get out of it - first and foremost, kill Seifer. (It might not have been the most logical of choices, but it made Squall the happiest.)

The first few attempts had failed miserably; he couldn't have been more frustrated at those times, times when a shove to send the blonde plummeting to his death from a third story window warped into them both tumbling onto the floor in a mesh of limbs and Seifer coming out on top (and very pleased about this)… times when, while trying to lace Seifer's water with arsenic, Selphie bumped into him, causing the drink to spill all over him, thus making Seifer come, verbally, to the conclusion that Squall was participating in a wet T-shirt contest, and Squall give into the urge of taking the time to pause and give him a nice black eye for his unwelcome commentary.

Times when Zell would have been very handy, indeed.

After not one assassination attempt had come through successful and unmolested, he switched gears and locked himself in his room, refusing any and all outside contact; his parents pulled out all the stops, eventually bringing the expert in. Five minutes after Rinoa walked through the door, Squall was sitting on the living room couch, ready to throttle something (but at least he was out of his room).

Five minutes after that, he'd been out the door and tearing down the sidewalk, vowing to never come back.

Running away had been, more than anything, a spur of the moment idea. It was definitely not thought out, and probably didn't involve a lot of common sense, seeing as how, after looking over all his options (and ruling out going to ANY of the people he knew, for various reasons—he either hated them or knew it would be useless, as in Rinoa's case, since she would call up his parents with a smile on her face) he ended up at the grocery store about a mile away.

An hour later, Squall's parents found him loitering around the frozen foods section as they meandered through the aisles, their cart filled with various bottles of alcohol, a few cans of soup and a box of cereal.

So the misanthropic teen found himself, again, on his living room couch with his arms crossed over his chest and a muted angry expression that was slowly becoming tinged with a bit of desperation on his face.

Once Rinoa found out about the trip, Squall's resolve in _not going_ was severely weakened (for two reasons—one, all of his plans seemed to plummet to their premature deaths once she was involved, and two, she managed to talk him into a mild complacency). And once Rinoa found out, Selphie found out. Selphie then told the Drunk Cowboy—who had a NAME, but no one cared to learn it.

Now, if they had been able to find any trace of Zell, they would have told him that Seifer and Squall were going away for some much needed reconciliation, as well… but for all they knew, he'd completely disappeared after the accident that fateful Saturday afternoon. Selphie's theory was that the time-space continuum had been disrupted when the ice-cream truck hit the blonde, and it began to unravel at an alarming rate until it zapped the skater into another dimension.

When she announced this theory to them at lunch the Wednesday before the two boys left for Florida, they mostly just stared at her in varying states of awe and disbelief. For all of twenty seconds.

Squall, having been discovered in his customary dark corner by Rinoa and bodily dragged outside to join the ranks of the undead high school students, muttered, "I **hope** that's what happened. Wonder if I can pay the time-space continuum to swallow someone **else** up, too…" and cast a venomous glare at Seifer; Seifer merely smirked at Squall and rolled his eyes at Selphie (all the while looking extremely pleased—a fact that had something to do with 'emerging victorious'); the Drunk Cowboy assured the girl they would get her the help she needed… and Rinoa dissented with her theory, stating that Zell had obviously been an escaped science experiment and the government had finally reclaimed him.

For a whole two days neither girl would let the subject drop and would often pass each other in the hallways, the words 'time-space continuum' and 'reclaimed science experiment' thrown back and forth… during which time, Squall attempted to convince his parents that there had been a court order that forbade him from leaving the state. They told him, affably, that they didn't believe him, and that he would be visiting his mother's parents no matter what. "Even if I died?" He had tested, and they smiled and said well, yes, they'd just have to ship his corpse to them, along with a nice card to fully express their regret that the older couple weren't able to have one measly visit from their grandson when he was ALIVE.

So killing himself was out of the picture. Too bad—that had been his next idea.

On the morning they were supposed to leave, Squall's parents asked him if he was all packed and ready to go to the airport after school… To which he replied, "No, definitely not. Does that mean I don't have to go?"

And they said, "No, definitely not. That just means Seifer gets to help you pack so you aren't late for your flight."

And no matter what Squall said, or how hard he protested, or even who he threatened, no one would listen to him when he said that that was one of the shittiest ideas he'd EVER heard. And, according to him, he'd heard some pretty shitty ideas.

It came as no surprise to him, then, that as he was stuck in his room packing for a trip he _desperately_ didn't want to take, when Seifer walked in to 'help' him, his arms were laden with a few articles of clothing that looked horribly, horribly familiar.

"Doesn't that belong to Rinoa?" He had inquired with a cocked eyebrow and gesture towards the shirt that sat happily at the top of the pile.

And Seifer had shrugged, said, "Yeah."

"And why do you have it?" Squall had known where this was going. He'd just been stalling for time so he could remember where he stashed his knife. It made for good stab wounds.

"Eh, well she let me borrow it for the trip."

"That's nice, but it's a little small for you." Last he'd seen the handy blade it had been under his pillow (stored there in case Seifer decided he was 'lonely' in the wee hours of the morning). He had others, to be sure, but when it came to Seifer, he had a special stabbing knife that he couldn't do without.

"Me? Squally, just WHO are we packing for at the moment?" Seifer retorted with a cat-like smirk, blithely unaware of Squall's mental scouring.

_Where is it… where did I leave it… **whe**—OH._ And without much flourish, Squall produced his beloved Seifer-stabbing knife.

Seifer, fortuitously, caught the flash of metal in the corner of his eye and, knowing _instantly_ (probably from experience) what awaited him should he loiter any longer, dropped the clothes (there was a skirt or two in the heap) and bolted.

It finally struck Squall that he was running out of time, plans, and weapons, not to mention the will to live. If he were to ever successfully derail the trip, he _couldn't give up, no matter how desperate the situation seemed – no matter **how late in the game it was**_. And he'd have to start playing _dirty_. So saying, when his blonde housemate wasn't looking, he slipped a spare knife deep into Seifer's bag (since his parents were liable to search their predictably homicidal son's for one) and reminded himself to drop one into the blonde's pocket when they got to the airport.

The school day passed in a flurry of... well, whatever it was, there was a flurry of it; Selphie, assisted by Rinoa (they had stopped arguing in favor of uniting in a single purpose—something that may just scar their school for years to come), badgered Squall into giving them his grandparents' phone number so they could check up on him during break and ascertain Seifer was still alive, breathing, and unmutilated… and also that Squall was still sane.

Squall had told them, reasonable, that they wouldn't _have_ to check up on them if they didn't _go_. Selphie rolled her eyes while Rinoa smiled, and Squall then caved and told them to call his parents and _they_ could tell them. He figured they would do that anyway. And probably only asked him to be annoying.

Drunk Cowboy made it his job to explain the art of wooing to Seifer (who stupidly enough actually _listened_), telling him that when the two came back, there'd better be… well, at _least_ a little less animosity on Squall's part. They couldn't hope for miracles, here.

Without Zell in the mix the overall safety of the students seemed to skyrocket and the nearby hospital was finally given a rest, although Squall _did_ stab Seifer in the leg with his pencil (sharpened for this express purpose) in English—again.

The class, however, along with math, remained eerily sedate—until the fire alarm went off and everyone burst into motion and noise. Though he was initially startled, Squall refused to get up, saying he hoped the entire place burned to the ground at took him with it. That didn't last long. Seifer was all too happy dragging him out of the room—desk and all—and Squall decided that leaping up and running deeper into the school would only incite the blonde to get more physical.

It turned out, however, that there'd _been_ no fire. Someone had somehow managed to let loose the class pets in the science rooms. The hallways and classrooms were crawling with iguanas, chinchillas, rabbits of all sorts and not a few snakes and tarantulas; teachers and secretaries were in a panic to get the critters back into their respective cages… before they ATE each other.

Watching the teachers practically trip over each other to catch the animals actually brought a very amused smile to Squall's face and his life almost seemed worth living at that moment. It didn't last, though, and as soon as he caught sight of Seifer he was scowling again.

Realizing that they would still be chasing small reptiles and rodents (thank God they had no birds) by the time school let out and that their students were much too pleased to HELP them, they told them to go home for early dismissal. Squall felt like smashing his face into a wall.

Everyone had walked with them to Squall's house—Rinoa, Selphie, Drunken Cowboy and even a few people Squall didn't know. Suspicious, he took a wrong turn and everyone followed him down a street he didn't even recognize, with the exception of Rinoa and Selphie (Rinoa probably knew before he did what he was thinking, and so grabbed the other girl's arm, leading her in the right direction) and even the Drunk Cowboy, who opted to follow the two girls.

The dark teen glanced over his shoulder nervously and began walking a bit faster—the crowd behind him matched his pace, so he picked it up a bit more and soon he was flat out running and feeling like he was in a zombie flick. Cutting through backyards and ducking around corners, he eventually lost his classmates (by that time, he seriously thought them to be zombies). And, it seemed, Seifer as well.

When he had finally found his way back home, Seifer was nowhere to be found, but Rinoa, Selphie and Drunk Cowboy were sitting out on his front lawn with his parents. Rinoa, upon seeing him, had asked where Seifer was. Panting, he said he didn't know. He also said he suspected the zombies got him.

"Where you running?" His mother had questioned, looking at him oddly.

"Yes. From zombies."

After they searched the neighborhood for Seifer (and finding him rather quickly, wandering around with a confused look on his face, not a single classmate in sight) everyone said goodbye one last time (and, in Squall's case, attempted to change his parents' minds about the whole thing—the smiled and shook their heads).

Squall's mom kissed him on the cheek and told him if he crashed the plane she would kill him.

Rinoa and Selphie hugged them goodbye, confessing with blinding smiles that _they'd_ unleashed the animals; Drunk Cowboy _tried_ hugging them but Seifer wouldn't let him near Squall, making threatening noises in the back of his throat.

When the car pulled out of the driveway, laden with two very unsuspecting and victim-able teens, everyone knew something would happen that week in Florida to change things. They just didn't know what—and hoped Squall didn't come back as a robot with laser eyes.

* * *

That Friday afternoon, though, did not mark Squall's defeat (even if the guards let Seifer go after finding a knife in his pocket-planted there by a very disappointed, if not despondent, Squall). If anything, it marked his one last ditch effort, ready to be employed the moment Seifer was preoccupied enough for it to launch without error. Until that time, the misanthropic teenager resigned himself to waiting hunched in his seat with an unhappy expression plastered clearly all over his face. There were only two parts in the plan; one was stuffed into the backpack at his feet (despite the urgings of the flight attendants to store it in an overhead compartment).

The chance came. Squall was so engulfed in _looking_ for it that he actually almost _missed_ it, but when Seifer bumped into his shoulder in an effort to make room for a clumsy passenger, he blinked, realizing that if ever there was a time to do it, this was that time.

The passenger that caused the problem settled down quickly after a short round of searches for dropped luggage, the seat that matched the ticket, and a few apologies to other passengers they'd smacked over the head with a wayward briefcase. When the commotion died down, Seifer rearranged himself in his own seat and made an off-hand comment to his unfriendly companion about airplane aisles being too narrow. Or about peanut butter jars and oyster babies. It didn't really matter what he said, seeing as how Squall would ignore him either way. Happily oblivious to this, or really not caring, Seifer elaborated, just as if the angry teen had actually answered and opened a vein of conversation.

Until a young Flight Attendant, a few months into her job, paused as she walked by to assist someone in the back with the overhead compartment to stare at the blonde.

"Sir…" She began timidly, sweeping her gaze over Seifer and his immediate surroundings. "Sir, who are you talking to?"

Seifer arched his brow in a display of bland distaste towards her—she must have been absolutely _blind_ not to see Squall; sure, the boy generally curled into a fetal position half the time and adamantly tried to bring his invisibility powers into fruition, but he was an _eye-catcher_, if only for the sole fact that he _did_ these things. Saying, "Don't notice me." was almost guaranteed to get yourself noticed. (Which led to pretty funny situations, in Squall's case.) "It's pretty obvious, _isn't_ it?" He motioned to the seat next to him, continuing, "I'm just bugging **this** stick in the mud over here."

Her mouth twitched into a failed copy of a smile and she pointed out timorously, "Young man, that's… an inflatable… erm.. 'companion.'"

Blinking, Seifer snapped his head around and took a good long look at what was inhabiting Squall's seat. It sure as hell wasn't Squall.

"Just how the hell did that GET there?" Seifer blurted out in mild wonder. Taking a quick, cursory glance around the compartment, the tall blonde came up short one angsty, angry teen. "Shit, he ditched me."

He then spared the blank faced sex doll a look, reflected for a moment on the situation, and shrugged. "Well, whatever. I'm more likely to get a decent conversation out of YOU than I am with HIM." Pause. "And less injuries." Another, longer pause. "So. What's your name?"

The flight attendant stood in the aisle for just a small amount of time, staring at the teenage boy.

A commotion near the hatch grabbed both flight attendant's and Seifer's attention rather quickly and they both watched empty faced as a large security guard came bearing down the aisle with a stony, no-nonsense expression in place. As he fast approached on his long-legged gait, Seifer noticed he was dragging something behind him; something heavy. Something like a body.

Something like a sullen-faced Squall.

Hauling him up and around by the scruff of his shirt, the guard pushed Squall forward, stating, "We've got orders not to let this kid off the plane _no matter what_."

"Um, even if the plane catches fire?" Inquired the stewardess.

(Seifer's mouth twitched at the corner as he watched Squall, who was still standing in the aisle.)

"Not even then, ma'am." He replied sourly.

(Squall glared.)

"Even if there's an earthquake and the ground beneath us splits open?"

(Seifer inclined his head towards the doll and affected an expression that looked like a cross between amusement and inquiry.)

"No."

(Squall's expression mimicked him unconsciously, minus the amusement part. He just looked like someone had slapped him with a large "What The Fuck?" stick.)

"Even if-"

(Seifer exaggerated his movements a bit more, mouthing "Yours?")

"No."

(Squall's eyes darted momentarily to where his decoy rested and then looked back at Seifer, scowling. He mouthed, "Shut the fuck up.")

"Well what about-"

(Seifer grinned.)

"Nope."

"WHAT IF GOD CAME DOWN AND TOLD US TO LET HIM OFF THE PLANE?"

"His parents said no to that as well."

Squall and Seifer, during this time, hadn't said much of anything. By the time the guard and stewardess were finished, though, Squall had delivered a swift, unerring kick to Seifer's shin for being a general annoyance. (And plus when he realized the brunette wasn't going to answer his question regarding the sudden appearance of the sex-doll he had started making stupid faces at him.)

The guard placed his hand on the teenager's shoulder and shook him once, gently. "None of that. Take your seat, kid, there's no way you're getting off this flight."

After a moment, Squall grudgingly did as he was told and moved past Seifer, taking hold of the failed decoy and attempted to remove it from his seat. It seemed, however, that no matter how Squall pushed and pulled and twisted, the doll was dead set on staying where it was. With a low growl and one last violent jerk, the teen conceded for the time being, eying the doll before reaching up and yanking open the overhead compartment, baring Seifer's bag (and consequently the knife security somehow hadn't found). Quickly unzipping it and shoving his hand inside, he fished around for only a small length of time before emerging victoriously with the short, sturdy blade. Brandishing it in a way that would make Jack the Ripper proud, he brought it down; once, twice, thrice.

There was an audible pop as the doll's surface ruptured and the air escaped in a rush. Seifer jerked in his seat and cried, in an anguished voice, "No, Dianah!"

And Squall just kept stabbing, taking out his pent up (well, not that pent up, seeing as how he _did_ kick Seifer at least once a day) anger on the collection of fabricated plastic. The other passengers, now more than well aware of the little drama unfolding inside the plane's cabin, could only stare in avid and somewhat confused horror as the doll was viciously murdered.

Finally, the guard snapped out of whatever brief trance that held him stationary in the first place (it was probably the shock of seeing such an abrupt and brutal defacement of a perfectly harmless inflated doll) and with one hand, took hold of Squall, and with the other, reached for the doll.

"Okay, okay, I think that's enough. Now just give me the doll and the knife." He tugged at the sad remains of the doll, inching it away and out of Squall's way until finally slipping it all the way out of the seat. Tucking it under his arm (Seifer kept sending it regretful looks) he then motioned for the brunette to hand over the knife—which he did, but only after sizing up Seifer (it was a force of habit). Knife in hand and doll safely (and limply) tucked away, the guard only stayed long enough to give the teenagers one last warning.

"I wouldn't bother wasting my time trying to escape or get kicked off the plane, kids. Your parents have alerted the entire airport's security; we have your pictures and a list of ways you'll try to get out of your trip." The last part was directed towards Squall, and the guard smiled (the action seemed to open his face and make him look like less of a hard ass), adding one last thing. "Come on, it can't be that bad. They're just your grandparents."

**_Just_**_my grandparents…_ Squall shivered and made a face, refusing to look up as he curled into himself in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Demoralized, he drew in on himself as the passengers and staff busied themselves prepping for take off.

After everything died down and the staff took the normal procedures of asking people to stay seated, buckle in, and stop threatening their neighbor, they took to the air; the tall blonde nudged Squall a little after about twenty minutes of flying, asking HOW he'd managed to sneak those knives passed the metal detectors in the airport. At first the brunette was dead set on just ignoring him, but as the seconds wore on and Seifer began making a sizeable dent in his shoulder, he finally snapped out a vicious, "I didn't MEAN to sneak them past—I wanted security to find them and then ban us from the fucking airport."

Seifer was silent for a moment, digesting this information slowly and thoroughly.

"You… _really_… don't want to go on this vacation, do you?"

The misanthropic teen shot him a measured, angry glare, that at once conveyed the sentiment '_just what the **fuck** tipped you off_?' Seifer rolled his eyes at the look, asking, "_Why_? Your parents told me all about Alona and Ralph. They sound awesome."

"No. No! You just don't under_stand_. They're not awesome—they're INSANE. They have a _cemetery_ in their backyard."

Seifer cocked an eyebrow. "You sure their backyard doesn't just _overlook_ a cemetery?"

Squall shook his head emphatically—or as emphatically as Squall got when some kind of extreme act of violence was not involved—answering, "Let me rephrase that… Their backyard **is** a _fucking cemetery_."

The blonde regarded him for a short moment, somewhat confused, but mostly disinclined to believe the mad ravings of a boy he had until recently thought to be a girl all his life (whether this was an actual belief or he had been faking it the entire time remained unknown). Besides, Squall's mom (and even his dad) never mentioned _anything_ about a backyard/cemetery, and he doubted Squall could remember something that clearly from when he was a small child.

And maybe he was right.

But it was a bitch and a half to get Squall to believe this, and after a while it just stopped looking like it would even be worth it. They'd find out in the end.

Seifer relegated himself to silence once more, but after only about five minutes he began racking his brain for something to talk about. Something that would interest Squall. Something that wouldn't get him punched. The first handful or two of topics that ran through his head were dead ends and guaranteed to get him nothing less than strangled to death. After he rejected a few dozen more, he thought of the content of their past conversations.

"_And all your clothes are black... what, are you Gothic, or something?" _

"_The most Perceptive Person in all the Universe Award goes to... Seifer Almasy."_

No. Squall's clothes hadn't been a good idea.

"_Are you a lesbian or something?" _

"_ARE YOU DEFECTIVE? Are you completely moronic or something!"_

No. Squall's sexuality was definitely out of the picture.

_"Seifer... did you ever bury that kitten of yours? The one that drowned in the toilet?"_

_"... Stinky?"_

_"... Yeah. Stinky."_

Hm. Stinky seemed like a safe topic to discuss—that conversation had not resulted in any anger on Squall's part or bruises on Seifer's. (The blonde ­_did_ have to wonder why their conversations always lacked content… looking back, though, it seemed like maybe he deserved the abuse Squall heaped upon him every time he opened his mouth—after all, more often than not it was childishly petulant and derogatory.)

"Hey. Squall. Remember Stinky?"

Squall shifted in his seat, almost actually casting a glance in Seifer's direction. "Your fucking cat? Yeah. Obviously. We just fucking BURIED the fucker."

"Dude, you just used 'fuck' three times in five seconds."

Squall tried to hold it back, but his amused grin broke through. "Awesome."

The blonde snorted and continued along his initial vein of thought. "Remember that one time when Stinky ran away and we couldn't find him?"

Squall distorted his face with a slight frown. "Um. No. And why are you bringing this up?"

He shrugged. "Just something to talk about."

Squall opened his mouth to say something, stopped as if reconsidering, and then sighed and shook his head. "Whatever."

Seifer grinned. He was safe. "So, anyway, what happened was my parents let Stinky out of the house one day, sort of hoping to make him smell less. I'm waiting all day for him to come back, but he's no where to be find and towards the evening we're asking all up and down the street, asking if the neighbor's've smelled anything really nasty in the past few hours."

He paused, looking at the brunette to see if any of it rang a bell. Nothing. He continued, "Stinky was missing for that entire week. Eventually my parents told me to stop worrying constantly and to go bug my friends, and since you were the only one on my block, I went to bug you. Still don't remember? You had a cold that entire week and I went up and pounded on your bedroom window to see if you could come out to play or something. You were still a little sick but I kept bugging you so you eventually came out."

Squall DID remember being sick and Seifer bugging him—but, then again, Seifer bugged him _whenever_ he was sick, so it was nothing all that special.

"We were walking down the street after you climbed out your window and you got light headed and fell into a bush."

Screwing up his face, he began to vaguely recall something about being dizzy and falling off the sidewalk, but he wasn't sure if it was a real memory or if he was making one up to match Seifer's pointless story. The only reason he was listening to the blonde was so that he didn't try talking about anything that was more annoying. By that time the Flight attendants were handing out dinner, complete with plastic white eating utensils that were placed before them. Neither of the boys were too concerned with what they got, so left it up to the woman serving them (and also didn't notice the rather nervous look she gave the pair).

After a moment, they were back on track and the blonde picked up where he'd left off.

"And that's when we found Stinky. You fell on him and he freaked out, clawing up your shoulder and arm and then tearing all the way back to my house." Seifer smiled widely. "You were crying. I kissed the marks for you and you stopped."

Finally, Squall was at full attention. "That did _not_ happen. You made that whole fucking story up!"

"Oh, no, it so _totally_ happened. That same day Stinky was found in the toilet bowl. Very, very dead."

Impulsively, Squall snatched up the closest somewhat lethal thing that was in range—which turned out to be his dinner on the first try, and was replaced after a moment with his Airline-provided-for plastic knife.

He then proceeded to threaten Seifer with its serrated edge.

"That COULD NOT have happened—why the hell would I ALLOW YOU TO FUCKING TOUCH ME YOU-"

What Squall had not exactly counted upon was that one of the Flight Attendants would, upon catching sight of the knife (nevermind it was _plastic_) lunge down the aisle and dive on top of Squall, managing to get them in a sharply uncomfortable position (and Squall could _swear_ he heard his back snap in half), having been in the army and trained for such a situation.

"TERRORIST MUST CEASE AND DESIST. DANGER, DANGER! CODE 135 OF SECTION TWO HAS BEEN—UH—SAYS—ER… DANGER!"

He'd also been kicked _out_.

"GET ­_OFF_ OF ME YOU **RETARD**!" Squall yelled, trying to throw him from his body (preferably before the back of his head touched the back of his knees).

Eventually Seifer managed to get out of from under the steward's legs and pried him off Squall, who was working himself into a frenzy.

Panting harshly, the steward clambered to his feet, seizing the useless plastic knife in his fist triumphantly. Before he could say anything, though, Squall flung himself at the Flight Attendant, wrapping around his midsection and bringing them both crashing to the aisle's floor. By this time, all the other passengers had gotten up, either to get a better view or get the hell away. A young woman had gone to fetch someone sane and came back at that moment with another of the staff members.

When the fetched stewardess saw what all the commotion was about, she let loose a short, strangled cry and broke into a run, yelling to be heard over the angry noises coming from the dark teen and the choking sounds the steward he was currently attacking was making.

When the two were finally separated—Squall held back by Seifer, the other by the stewardess—they asked to explain what had happened.

"That assfuck tried to cripple me!" Squall spat, making another try for the steward, who was alternating between cowering behind his coworker and calling the brunette a terrorist.

The woman gave the man behind her a reproachful look and he sputtered, shaking a hand at his arch nemesis.

"I was not trying to _cripple_ him, he had a _weapon_. I was _saving people_."

"That's not what my spine says!"

The steward fixed him with a wide eyed stare. "Your spine talks to you?"

And again Squall lunged at him. Seifer caught him securely around the waist and kept him stationed, though the steward ducked behind the woman instinctively.

"David, stop being such a ninny. If you weren't so stupid things like this wouldn't happen in the first place." She said irritably, frowning at the man. She then turned her attention to the two boys—and bit back the urge to groan.

Seifer had not only taken it upon himself to keep his traveling companion from making quick work of David, but had decided to do so in such a manner that was unacceptable to Squall, being at once too familiar and too restricting for Squall's taste.

"_Get off or I castrate you_."

The stewardess then decided to separate all three males. David was sent to get baby-sat by the co-pilot (everyone knows all co-pilots do is play cards and paint their nails during the flight. That's why their nails change colors so quickly); he was told very sternly not to come out until they had landed and the two buys were far, far away.

Seifer was moved to the very back of the cabin, trading places with an irritated (and slightly scared) young suit toting a briefcase. He shot Seifer a dirty look and Seifer made a threatening motion, alarming the man and causing him to hurry along the way. Seifer smiled, pleased with himself though he hadn't actually done anything to merit the man's apprehension.

Squall was placed in the very front, as far from Seifer as could be managed, and next to a boy his own age. Black hair and eyes, he was plugged into a set of earphones and didn't hear a word the stewardess said, all the while smiling and nodding, occasionally grinning as Squall. As soon as the brunette was seated and the stewardess was out of sight (after giving him one last misgiving look) the boy yanked his earphones free and turned to his new seat companion.

"Dude, you OWNED that guy."

Squall regarded him suspiciously. "…"

The boy grinned. "You're cute."

Squall made a weird face and looked around for help.

When it seemed the boy wasn't going to get anything other than silence and a few measured 'you freak' looks, he gave him one last smile and went back to his disc player. Everything was quiet on the plane for about half an hour.

Then Seifer got bored. Looking around idly, he decided nothing was that interesting, really, and so began rummaging around his backpack, emerging with a half-used up pad of paper and a blunt pencil that was very close to snapping in half.

Finding a few blank pages, he got to work, hunching over the notebook and scribbling furiously, smiling slightly.

He knew he was supposed to be getting on Squall's _good_ side, and that meant, point blank, leaving him alone, agreeing with him, and keeping his mouth shut so the brunette thought him less of an idiot useful only as firewood, but he was _bored_ and he'd already annoyed him twice.

Besides.

It was hard to shake old habits, especially when it got Squall to focus on HIM to the exclusion of everything else.

Finished with his note (and a few scribbly drawings he deigned masterpieces), he crumpled it up, took aim, and shot it towards the back of Squall's head. Seeing as how his aim was always off, it sailed right over Squall's shoulder, grazing his cheek. But it got his attention.

"What the…"

Squall grabbed his cheek as his eyes snapped to where whatever had hit him landed… which was right in his lap. He snatched it up and glared murder as he opened it, gazing at what was written within. A second one hit him in the back of his head shortly after he finished reading, and if he wasn't annoyed before, he was _then_.

Fumbling around for a moment in search of a weapon of sorts, Squall was about ready to give up when the emo-looking boy next to him proffered a gray metal stapler.

"Why don't you throw this?"

Squall cocked and eyebrow. "Why do you have a stapler?"

The boy shrugged, and then Squall shrugged and took the offered heavy projectile.

Standing straight, he turned, aimed, threw, and smashed Seifer in the head with the gift. Very slowly, a smile crept onto the brunettes face as he looked over at his newfound friend.

The boy smiled back.

The people around Seifer were asking if there was a medic on the plane.

* * *

When the plane finally touched down in Florida, it was not a moment too soon. Though the teens _had_ been separated, and Seifer _had_ been beamed in the head with an office accessory, it didn't actually stop them from annoying the snot out of each other (oh, okay, after recovering, Seifer was really the only one being annoying—Squall was just slowly losing his mind and glancing furtively at the sealed hatch) and scaring the people around them. Some of the passengers on Flight 555 were making their peace with God. Others with Bob Hope. One particularly delicate minded passenger lapsed into insanity, claiming to be a real, honest-to-fuck, treasure-loving, sea-faring pirate.

The crew of the plane was just as relieved to reach their destination as everyone else, if not more so. Flight Attendants generally didn't have the training to deal with such violently uncooperative and downright unpredictable passengers such as they were… and the one that did have that training had been dropped on his head as a baby. Twice.

The two boys were ushered off the plane by flight attendants wearing tight smiles, their eyes eager to see them go. Backpacks slung over a shoulder or dangling from a fist, they made their way down the loading hallway; Squall was angry, still, but trepidatious in the face of meeting his grandparents. Shoulders hunched, his gait was that of the shuffling dead, full of dread and resignation. Next to him, Seifer was amused and taking in their surroundings amiably, much more eager to meet Squall's grandparents than the boy himself.

When they finally stepped into the waiting room, they glanced around (Squall half-heartedly) in search of the old married couple. Or maybe one half of it. There was a chance the other had, oh, died. Or been arrested. Or any number of things. Much to Squall's dismay, relief, and overall joy, they were nowhere to be found. A vast array of other people were, however.

While most people were in a hurry, or seemed to be trying to get somewhere, there were a handful or more that were watching the gate intently. As their fellow passengers emptied out of the plane behind them (thereby squashing Squall's urge to proclaim loudly that the Flight had suffered from severe food poisoning and they were one of the few survivors) having not been hurried out of the plane like they were diseased, they dispersed to various waiting people; the flirty emo boy Squall had been relocated next to smiled at him before making his way to the long line of pay phones—luckily for everyone (Squall, the emo boy, people in the general vicinity and Seifer _himself_) the blonde hadn't noticed the look. A majority of the other passengers, though, didn't go to a waiting person and instead went to sit down and wait or headed straight out after visiting baggage claim—something the boys would have to do shortly.

Surprisingly, one of the waiting people, a tall, blonde young woman sporting glasses, approached them purposefully.

Or, she approached _Squall_ purposefully.

"Squall?"

He blinked, somewhat incredulous and taken aback. "…_Alona_?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. I live next to your grandparents. They sent me to come pick you up."

Squall eyed her suspiciously and Seifer watched them quietly, just as surprised as Squall. "Why couldn't they get us themselves?"

"Two reasons. One, they've been drinking." Squall snorted. "Two, it's past ten and they can't drive."

The brunette considered this for a moment and shrugged. "Whatever."

The girl smiled again. "Read to go?"

He looked defeated as he slowly nodded—she took that moment to finally notice Seifer standing there, looking at them.

"Uh. Who're you?"

Seifer blinked at her, then looked at Squall.

Both boys saw this as an opportunity that couldn't be missed, and spoke up at the same time.

"I have _no idea_ who he is, he keeps follow-"

"I'm Squall's boyfrien-"

"You're his what?"

"He's-"

"I'm-"

"Alright!" The girl declared, making a sharp motion with her hand. The two boys fell silent and looked at her reproachfully.

She sighed with her eyes tightly closed, one hand on her hip and the other covering half her grimacing face. "Okay, I vaguely remember your grandparents mentioning someone else… Em… Surfer?"

The brunette choked back a laugh as Seifer made a face and corrected her.

"It's Seifer."

"Oh, right!" Her face morphed back into a friendly expression. "So you're Seifer. Well, do we have everything?"

They said no, and that they still had to swing by baggage claim, which was done quickly enough and soon they were out of the airport and in the night air of the parking lot, heading towards the bespectacled blonde's car.

"I completely forgot Seifer was coming with you, Squall, but I think there's enough room in the car for all of us. I had to pick up my brother before coming to get you guys." She commented as they neared what seemed to be her car. She peaked through the darkened window quickly and smiled. "Looks like he's out cold. I'll pop the trunk and if you guys could stow your luggage and be quiet, that would be great."

Everything was done without a hitch and the girl silently opened the drivers door, unlocking the back doors for Seifer and Squall, switching off the overhead light to keep it from shining into her brother's eyes and waking him.

But not before Squall caught sight of him and froze.

Seifer blinked at him, already seated. "Squall?" He kept his voice just above silent, but even if he had shouted it was uncertain Squall would have heard him anyway.

"Nobody move."

The girl, having slid into her seat and was in the process of shutting her door, paused, alarmed.

"What is it?"

"It's… you… your brother is _Zell_?"

Seifer's face darkened at the mention of the skater's name just as the girls face brightened, surprised.

"You know him?"

Pale, Squall nodded quietly, then quickly scrambled into his seat, taking the utmost care not to slam the door as he closed it. The girl followed his lead, but turned to look at him, still smiling.

"He never said anything about you."

"That's okay, I don't mind." Squall shook his head, glancing around nervously, adding, "Let's just not make any noise, get to my grandparents' house and not wake him up."

"Oh, I don't think he'll mind seeing you again if you too know each other. See, he got sent here after a little mishap when he was living with our parents. They had just moved there, too…"

"No, it's _okay_. It's better if he doesn't know. Just don't argue, keep quiet, and we'll all survive this car ride intact and unmutilated."

She gave him a funny look in the dark, but shrugged. "Okay."

She straightened in her seat and turned the keys in the ignition.

Loud, screeching music blasted their eardrums, shattering the silence of the night; said silence limped off, favoring its right leg and bleeding profusely.

Shocked awake, the sleeping blonde in the front jerked upright—Squall tensed violently—yelling in surprise. And just as abruptly as he'd awoken, he slammed his face on the dashboard before him, knocking himself unconscious. The girl clicked the music off and stared at the slumped form of her brother, sighing.

"Head wounds must be in season," Seifer observed from the back almost wryly, touching around his own stapler-induced injury from the plane in memory.

"I guess I better get us all home." The girl commented, reaching over and working her brother back into a reclining position.

* * *

Home, Squall discovered, was infested with what looked like millions of pink flamingos. It was hard to tell in the dark of the night, but he was pretty sure that that was what all the pinkish objects cluttered on the lawn were.

The door to the house burst open and as the porch light came to life, out came two terrifyingly familiar elderly people, both smiling like idiots and making their way towards Squall quicker than he would have liked.

"Quistis, you finally got back!" Alona called while stepping of the porch. The blonde girl smiled indulgently.

"We thought you might have tried running someone off the road again." Ralph remarked in addition. Squall quickly shot a side-glance at Quistis, who was still smiling, unconcerned.

"Of course not—I don't want to scare your grandson and his friend, now do I?"

Alona smiled, then homed in on her aforementioned grandson, looking him up and down, then up again. Then down. And then up again.

"I thought you'd be angrier."

Squall stared at her, silently wishing Zell hadn't given himself a concussion and had instead managed to kill them all on the ride over.

"Alright, Loni, let's get the boys in the house and up to bed. They're probably exausted." Ralph interjected, and Squall decided that he'd be the good one. The dependable one. "You kids want the same bed?"

The _evil_ one.

"_NO_." Squall ground out before Seifer could say anything and earn himself a broken arm.

After that the two boys collected their luggage and bid farewell to Quistis, pausing to watch her uneasily as she dragged Zell from the car to her house.

"Those two are so adorable," Alona reflected shortly with a smile, then hurried them into the house.

And though Squall had indeed lost the battle and was now in the clutches of the enemy, the war was far, _far_ from over.

* * *

1. David's why 9/ll happened.

2. This took forever, I'm sorry about the wait and the length. It was probably boring.

3. On an off-chance, did anyone _mind_ the length? I'd like to know if you found it convenient or annoying, since that will shape how I deliver the next chapters. It was a lot to edit, and eventually I gave up. So apologies for numerous mistakes.


End file.
